


Keeping it Casual

by smarshtastic



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Casual Sex, Denial of Feelings, Locker Room, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-17 16:44:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14193288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smarshtastic/pseuds/smarshtastic
Summary: It doesn’t become a trend, exactly, but Gabe does start noticing a lot more. He tries (and mostly fails) to keep a sort of emotional detachment from his observations. McCree has filled out as he’s gotten older - he’s put on a lot of muscle. He’s as tall as Gabe and just as broad, even without the SEP treatments that enhanced Gabe’s own physique. McCree is strong, a crack shot, a shameless flirt. He’s handsome and charming and he knows it. Gabe knows it too. It’s a fact that he’s, suddenly, become agonizingly aware of.---Gabe is noticing Jesse McCree a lot more than he used to, and doesn't exactly want to do something about it. But he's not going to stop McCree from doing anything about it.





	Keeping it Casual

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fabrega](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabrega/gifts).



> Hi folks! I hope you enjoy this smutty locker room fic that spiraled out of control! I'm spending the rest of the month with Camp NaNoWriMo working on the apocryphal Westworld AU, so I hope you enjoy this dose of McReyes in the meantime. 
> 
> Shout out to [fabrega](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabrega/) for being an excellent beta, as always. Dunno what I'd do without her ♥ 
> 
> **UPDATE** : Now with [ART](http://oblivionscribe.tumblr.com/post/172768140557/commission-for-wictorwictor-depicting-the-locker) by the incredibly talented and truly incredible OblivionScribe. You should go [commission them](http://oblivionscribe.tumblr.com/commissions) for more juicy goodness like this!!!
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](https://wictorwictor.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/smarshtastic)!

Gabe isn’t sure what changed, exactly, but suddenly he is noticing Agent Jesse McCree in a completely different way than usual. 

It happens in the locker room as they’re gearing up for their next mission. McCree puts his booted foot up on the bench in between the rows of lockers and wraps one leg of his chaps around his calf. He slides the zipper up the back - only halfway, pausing to clip the stirrup under his boot - before he does the same with his other leg. As Gabe watches, McCree plants both feet on the ground and pulls the zippers up the rest of the way, his back turned to Gabe as he secures the top loops over his belt. McCree adjusts his belt, his ridiculously huge buckle jangling against the straps and buckles of the rest of his tac gear. When he turns, he catches Gabe’s eye. McCree has the audacity to  _ wink _ and Gabe very quickly turns back to his own chest plate, fiddling with the shoulder straps so he doesn’t have to look at McCree. Gabe gives the orders to move out more gruffly than he means to, overcompensating for letting McCree get the better of him. 

What  _ was _ that, even? Gabe has to push the question out of his mind - the mission requires his full attention. But another voice in the back of his mind helpfully recounts just exactly how well McCree’s chaps framed his ass. 

The mission, Gabe thinks, more flustered than he has any right to be. The mission. 

It doesn’t become a trend, exactly, but Gabe does start  _ noticing  _ a lot more. He tries (and mostly fails) to keep a sort of emotional detachment from his observations. McCree has filled out as he’s gotten older - he’s put on a lot of muscle. He’s as tall as Gabe and just as broad, even without the SEP treatments that enhanced Gabe’s own physique. McCree is strong, a crack shot, a shameless flirt. He’s handsome and charming and he knows it. Gabe knows it too. It’s a fact that he’s, suddenly, become agonizingly aware of. 

Even worse, McCree has become an  _ extremely _ competent and adept professional. It’s true that Gabe has always had something of a competency kink, and McCree’s abilities scratch that itch in just the right way; the fact that McCree can go from charming in a moodily lit bar to scrapping in a dirty alley to sighting down the barrel of a rifle and landing a perfect headshot  _ does _ things to Gabe that he’s loath to admit. Gabe finds himself watching McCree when they’re out in the field, or switching to the flycam trained on McCree when he’s manning the mission from the base. He can almost get away with it, too - he’s just keeping an eye on Blackwatch’s best assets, right?

And those are some  _ assets _ .

Gabe could smack himself. The only reason he’s been having these thoughts at all is because it’s been years since he’s let himself relax enough to think about things other than his job. He has a team of excellent, hardworking people, and he doesn’t have to spend as much of his time worrying about what is lurking in the shadows. They’ve gotten to a stable place where things aren’t predictable, exactly, but it doesn’t feel like a constant scramble to keep control on everything. It has freed up enough of Gabe’s mental capacity to start thinking about things he had long since given up on - dating, a relationship, having a family. Those things are still impossible, but maybe he can afford to have just a little bit of a personal life these days. This newfound interest in Jesse McCree is only his mind seeking out some way to occupy itself. 

Besides, he hasn’t dated in ages. He’d be hard pressed (and deeply embarrassed) to put a number on it, so he doesn’t. But he no longer has the excuse of being too busy to date. The possibility is, quite frankly, terrifying. 

Further to the point, there are any number of reasons why Gabe’s infatuation with McCree is completely nonsensical. He’s his CO, for one, and though fraternization is only slightly discouraged, Overwatch is no stranger to personal entanglements. There are plenty of instances where the command structure gets a little muddled - Gabe thinks back, in particular, to Ana and Reinhardt’s relationship and how  _ that _ developed. Gabe could understand wanting to avoid that mess. To complicate matters, at some point not too long ago, McCree was dating Shiga. Gabe saw the paperwork - he had approved the paperwork - and he had seen their little bits of unsubtle affection on the job. But it never interfered with their work, as much as it made Gabe ache in a way he refused to acknowledge. As he examines it now, Gabe comes to the conclusion that while McCree might not have a problem dating his colleagues, Gabe is simply not McCree’s type. Gabe’s older, he’s an authority figure (with which McCree has historically had a bad track record), and, frankly, McCree could do better for himself. 

After years or working together, Gabe knows McCree. They’ve become close - or Gabe would like to think so. Gabe trusts McCree in a way that he didn’t think was possible, back when he had recruited McCree right out of an interrogation room after the Deadlock bust. McCree has become his de facto second in command for a reason. 

It’s not always professional between them, either. Gabe’s opened up to McCree about his worries over beers after some mission gone screwy. He’s talked McCree through a panic attack on a few occasions, and they’ve both literally saved each other’s lives more times than Gabe can count. McCree is a friend and a close colleague. He doesn’t want to ruin that. 

Still, with everything Gabe knows about McCree, the likelihood that they could make the leap from  _ friendly colleagues  _ to  _ romantic partners  _ seems a distant delusion. Maybe they could fuck - maybe that would be fine. Maybe that wouldn’t upset the delicate balance of their dynamic; they could both use the outlet. (Even though McCree certainly would have no problem getting it elsewhere, Gabe’s mind reminds him helpfully.) If there was going to be anything between them, it was going to be purely sexual. Gabe does his best to bring himself back to reality: in no possible scenario would McCree want to date him. 

The logic of it doesn’t exactly connect with Gabe’s baser side. He spends more time with the squad in the locker room, pre- and post-mission. He even starts showering in the locker room with the rest of the squad instead of going back to his quarters to make use of his private shower. 

If McCree notices, it doesn’t seem to faze him. In fact - and Gabe has to remind himself that it’s all probably wishful thinking on his part - McCree seems like he’s hamming it up for Gabe. He takes his time strapping himself into his gear before missions, and peels himself out of it slowly after missions. He slides into the shower stall next to Gabe’s, singing throatily as he lathers up. The walls between the stalls come up about waist height, just enough privacy to keep eyes from wandering, but not enough to stop McCree from reaching over the wall and grabbing Gabe’s shampoo. 

“Do you mind?” McCree asks, a grin still on his lips, his hair plastered to his forehead. “I’m fresh out.”

Gabe nods dumbly, turning his back to the hot water. He tries not to think about McCree smelling like him - he can imagine burying his nose in McCree’s hair and breathing in the scent. Gabe screws his eyes shut. This is getting out of hand. 

He pulls away. He retreats inward and brings up the walls that got him through the last several years. It’s the only way Gabe can think of to keep himself sane: business as usual, pretend that he doesn’t actually feel feelings, and everything can go back to normal. 

One day, right before a high-stakes mission, Gabe pores over the mission parameters once again, just for peace of mind. McCree is there, because he’s running point on the team providing cover fire, and he needs to know where Gabe’s team is going to be and when. Together, they go through the plan once, twice, then a third time for luck. Afterwards, Gabe looks up and finds McCree looking at him with a serious, intense gaze. 

“Be safe out there, alright?” McCree says. Gabe blinks in surprise. 

“You have my back,” Gabe says automatically. 

“Always,” McCree nods. “This one is big, though. I can feel it.”

Gabe shakes his head, clicking his tablet off and tucking it under his arm. 

“Don’t get superstitious on me now,” he says. McCree reaches for Gabe’s shoulder, finding his eyes again and holding his gaze. 

“Just be careful out there, okay?”

Gabe swallows around the lump in his throat, the walls he had carefully built up crumbling under McCree’s steady grip. 

“Alright.”

It does turn out to be a big one. It doesn’t go sideways, necessarily, but it gets  _ complicated _ and they have to revert to one of their alternate extraction plans. Fortunately, they’re all extremely good at what they do, so it doesn’t mean much more than a different route and -

The ambush comes out of nowhere. 

Gabe and his team react instinctively, neutralizing the threat without hesitation. When the coast is clear, he turns and takes a step. A high caliber bullet whizzes past his ear. It pierces the skull of the first in a second wave of the ambush, sending blood and brain matter spraying across Gabe’s tac vest. He blinks the gore out of his eyes in time to see another bullet connect with the next closest hostile. He knows it’s McCree who’s shooting - knows he’s somewhere in his sniper’s perch high above them, watching over them - but he can’t see him. He mouths a “thank you” in the direction of McCree’s location and keeps moving, imagining McCree’s eyes on his back. Gabe and his squad make it back to their extraction point without further incident. As his team’s shuttle takes off, Gabe can’t help his thoughts from wandering back to McCree, imagining him in his sniper’s perch, his strong, steady hands adjusting the angle of the rifle as he sights down the barrel, watching Gabe. Something about that image makes Gabe shiver. He leans his head back against the seat and listens for the other extraction teams to check in. All clear, safe and sound. They head back to base. 

A few hours later, Gabe sits on the bench in the locker room, all cleaned up with his tac gear in a gory pile at his feet. His shoulders sag, his eyes on the floor in front of him. He’s tired. It was a successful mission, but there are parts of Gabe’s job that still unsettle him. He figures that’s a good sign, ultimately, but he wishes he could close his eyes and not relive the explosion of a man’s skull in front of him again and again. 

Gabe hears heavy footfalls but doesn’t look up until a pair of familiar boots step into his line of sight. He lifts his eyes without moving his head. McCree gives him a small smile, a weariness in his own eyes. 

“Hey,” Gabe says. “Nice shooting out there.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

Before Gabe knows what’s happening, McCree’s strong, steady hands haul Gabe up from the bench and pull Gabe against his chest. His mouth finds Gabe’s - it’s a rough, inelegant kiss. Their teeth click and their noses bump together and McCree’s hand grips the back of Gabe’s neck almost too tightly, the other fisted in the front of his shirt. Gabe kisses him back, desperate and breathless, his eyes screwed shut, trying to memorize this moment. 

McCree pulls away first, taking a half step back so he can look Gabe in the eye. There’s a tinge of color high in McCree’s cheeks, an anxiousness in his eyes, but there’s something hopeful there too. Gabe tips forward for another kiss before he can think better of it. McCree’s arms come up and wrap around Gabe’s shoulders and he pulls him in, stepping backwards until McCree’s back connects with the wall of lockers. Gabe crowds in close, kissing McCree hot and desperate, his fingers plucking at McCree’s collar, the weight of his body pressing McCree against the lockers. McCree’s hand cups the back of his neck again and Gabe loves the weight of his hand there - the warm, calloused palm, grounding him, holding him in place. Right where he belongs. He makes a small noise into McCree’s mouth. McCree sweeps his tongue between Gabe’s lips and Gabe nearly loses it right there. His legs wobble. He drops to his knees without thinking, fingers going for the ridiculous buckle over McCree’s fly. He glances up, sees McCree’s rounded eyes, his spit-shiny lips. 

“Can I?” Gabe manages to ask. McCree nods dumbly, moving his hand onto Gabe’s shoulder and squeezing gently. Gabe tears his gaze away from McCree’s face to focus on unbuckling his belt and pulling it open, letting it hang down as he tugs down the zipper of McCree’s pants. McCree squeezes Gabe’s shoulder again as he shifts his legs further apart, allowing Gabe to dip his hand into McCree’s underwear. Gabe wraps his fingers around McCree’s half-hard dick and hears McCree make a low, pleased noise that almost sounds like a purr. Encouraged, Gabe ducks forward and takes it between his lips. McCree sucks in a breath, his hand finding its way into Gabe’s hair as his cock fills out on Gabe’s tongue. Gabe nudges his head into McCree’s hand and squeezes his eyes shut, hollowing his cheeks to take as much of McCree’s dick into his mouth as he can. 

If this is the only chance he gets, Gabe is going to make the most of it. 

McCree hardens quickly in Gabe’s mouth, his girth stretching Gabe’s lips wide. Gabe does his best - wants, desperately, to do his best, to make McCree feel good, to make it  _ last  _ \- but he’s woefully out of practice. McCree is thick - god help Gabe, he’s  _ big  _ \- and as much as it makes Gabe’s mouth water, it’s a lot for him to take. The blunt tip of McCree’s dick hits the back of hit throat. It nearly makes Gabe choke. As it is, he makes a small noise around McCree’s dick. He feels him shift under his mouth and he pulls back, just a little, and looks up at McCree quickly, almost pleadingly. McCree is watching him, mouth open and panting, the color high on his cheeks. He nods and Gabe presses his face forward again, loosening his jaw to take McCree’s cock as far down as he can manage. There’s that tempting thicket of hair peeking out from under McCree’s shirt and around the base of his cock that Gabe desperately wants to bury his nose in, but there’s no way he’ll manage without actually choking himself. He pulls off instead, running his tongue over the length of McCree’s dick, mouthing down along the thick shaft, relishing the salty taste of his skin and sweat. He nuzzles his cheek against the exposed patch of hair as he sucks at the skin at the base of his dick, his thumb running lightly over the tip of him. He can feel precome already beading at McCree’s slit. It makes something hot and possessive well up in the pit of Gabe’s stomach; he’s making McCree feel good. 

McCree’s hand flexes in Gabe’s hair, tugging at the short strands. He’s moaning softly, too - it’s making Gabe’s spine tingle. It’s like nothing Gabe’s ever heard from McCree before. He wants to memorize that sound, tuck it away for later, for those lonely nights where Gabe only has his own hand for company. 

He lets McCree guide his head with that hand in his hair, loosening his jaw and closing his eyes. He’s getting increasingly sloppy, spurred on by the taste of precome on his tongue. He can feel McCree’s hips trembling under his hands, twitching away from the lockers in little nudges, chasing the wet heat of Gabe’s mouth. Gabe rubs his hands over McCree’s clothed thighs. He can feel the muscle underneath - he lets himself imagine what it would be like to feel McCree’s hot skin under his palms. Gabe lets out a small moan around McCree’s cock. His mind is running away from him; he’s imagining what it would be like to have McCree completely naked and spread out underneath him, what it would be like to run his hands all over McCree’s bare skin, what it would be like to feel McCree’s lips on his own dick, what it would feel like to sink his dick into McCree’s tight ass - to have  _ McCree _ sink his dick into  _ Gabe’s _ ass...

“Boss,” McCree moans, louder this time, his hand clutching in Gabe’s hair. “Y’feel so fucking good - I’m gonna, fuck, I’m close, boss, I’m gonna come -”

Gabe shivers. He makes what he hopes sounds like a pleased, encouraging noise around McCree’s dick, his hands coming up to circle the base of him and jerk him off while he sucks on the very tip of his dick. He dares to raise his eyes to look at McCree’s face again; McCree is watching Gabe with slightly glazed eyes, his mouth hanging open and his breath coming fast. 

“Boss -” he manages gasp. His cock twitches between Gabe’s lips, come spurting over Gabe’s tongue in thick pulses, taking him by surprise. He pulls back but McCree is still coming, his spunk falling across Gabe’s mouth and facial hair. Gabe doesn’t care - he must look a mess, with come dripping in his goatee - instead, he leans forward and licks the last few drops from the head of McCree’s cock. McCree’s thighs tremble slightly but then his strong, steady hands are pulling Gabe back up to his feet. Gabe lets him, though he can’t help the surprised noise that falls from his lips as McCree tugs him close and crushes his mouth to Gabe’s. McCree’s tongue sweeps over Gabe’s lips, into his mouth, surely tasting his own come on Gabe’s tongue. Gabe moans against McCree, one hand fisting in his shirt. 

“Want you to fuck me,” McCree murmurs, his voice low, practically a growl. Gabe blinks, jerking back. 

“You…?”

“I want you to fuck me, Reyes,” McCree says again, more clearly this time, his expression hungry. Gabe is suddenly acutely aware of their surroundings. His fingers twist in the fabric of McCree’s shirt. 

“Here?”

“Yeah,” McCree says. His palm presses against the bulge in the front of Gabe’s pants, making Gabe nearly jump. He gives Gabe’s cock a firm squeeze. “Come on. Before someone sees.”

Dazedly, Gabe lets McCree slip out of his grip, watches him turn to brace against the lockers, shimmying his pants further down to expose his ass. His cock throbs in his own pants at the sight. McCree looks over his shoulder, his hair falling in his eyes. 

“Come on,” he says again. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

Gabe fumbles with his own fly. “Lube?” he asks, wrenching his zipper down. Unbelievably, McCree produces a packet from his pocket and hands it back to Gabe, who blinks at it dumbly. 

“Prepared for any eventuality,” McCree says, slightly breathlessly. He shifts his weight, pushing his hips back towards Gabe. “Come  _ on _ , don’t keep me waiting.”

Gabe tears the packet open with his teeth and hastily dribbles it between McCree’s cheeks. McCree sucks in a breath, dropping his forehead to the cold metal of the lockers. Gabe frees his cock from his pants and uses the rest of the lube to slick it up. Hand wrapped around his dick, looking down at McCree’s ass, Gabe pauses, still not entirely sure how this is happening. 

McCree shifts restlessly. “Reyes,  _ please _ .”

Gabe can’t resist the little whine that comes into McCree’s voice at that. He takes a half-step forward and rubs his dick between McCree’s slick cheeks. He presses the tip of his dick against McCree’s hole, thinking fleetingly that he doesn’t want to hurt him - but then McCree shoves his hips back, chasing Gabe’s dick. Gabe grabs McCree’s hips with both hand and holds him in place as he eases himself into McCree’s ass. Gabe knows he’s big - maybe not as thick as McCree but  _ still _ \- so he goes slowly. McCree’s breath hitches and then he moans, long and low, his hips still twitching under Gabe’s grip. He’s tight, gripping Gabe’s cock in a delicious heat. Gabe presses in until his hips are flush with McCree’s ass. He looks down between them, at his skin pressed up against McCree’s, and swallows thickly. 

“Fuck - c’mon, Reyes. Don’t stop there,” McCree says, turning his head to look over his shoulder at Gabe again. There’s a brightness to the heat in his eyes that makes a shiver run down Gabe’s spine. He pulls back, just a little, then thrusts in, testing it. McCree makes a small noise so Gabe does it again, harder this time. The noise that McCree makes goes higher-pitched, needier. He shifts under Gabe’s grip. “Again - like that, again. Please - god. ‘Sbetter than what I imagined -  _ c’mon _ , more -”

_ What he imagined _ . The words ring in Gabe’s ears as he starts fucking into McCree in earnest, chasing that delicious, hot clench around his cock. All of Gabe’s careful reserve vanishes. His fingers dig into McCree’s exposed flesh, pushing his pants further down to get at his skin. He tugs McCree’s hips back to meet him thrust for thrust, his eyes on his own dick as it disappears into McCree’s ass over and over. McCree presses his face into the crook of his arm to try to muffle the sounds that fall from his mouth, louder and needier with every thrust. He rocks with Gabe, matching his rhythm perfectly, clenching around Gabe’s cock and taking him deep. Gabe knows he’s not going to last, but he wants to memorize this feeling, the sight of his cock stretching McCree’s ass open, the sound of his half-muffled praises. 

“Yeah, y’feel so fucking good,” McCree murmurs, his breath hitching with each thrust. “Fuck - just like that - more, more -”

Gabe wants to give him everything. He drops his forehead to the back of McCree’s neck, breathing heavily, his lips ghosting over the skin that peeks above his collar. He closes his eyes and breathes in the scent from McCree’s hair - is that his shampoo? Surely he’s imagining it. Gabe’s orgasm is rapidly pooling in his stomach. His hips stutter against McCree’s ass. He doesn’t want this to end. 

“I’m close -” Gabe manages to choke out. 

“Yeah? Fuck yeah - do it, wanna feel it -”

Gabe lets out a strangled noise that sounds a lot like  _ Jesse _ . His cock twitches and spills inside of him, his thrusts becoming erratic as his orgasm washes over his body. The gush of warmth around his cock is almost too much to bear. Gabe presses his face against the back of McCree’s neck, moving his hips in little nudges against his ass as his cock begins to soften. Without thinking, Gabe presses a small, soft kiss to the knob at the back of his neck. 

The door to the locker room swings open with a loud clang. Gabe jumps back and McCree straightens immediately. They only have a moment or two before the person comes around the bank of lockers they’ve ensconced themselves in. Gabe is glad he always picks the last row. He fumbles to get his pants up before the footsteps come any closer. McCree meets his eyes, a spark of mischief in his expression. He gestures to the corner of his mouth. 

“You got a little something there,” he says. Gabe feels the flush rise to his cheeks as he scrubs at his goatee, finding it still sticky with McCree’s come.  _ God _ . McCree ducks forward quickly and presses a soft, brief kiss to Gabe’s lips. “We should do that again some time.”

Gabe doesn’t have the brain capacity to formulate a response before the intruder rounds the corner. Gabe turns away hastily. 

“Hey,” Gabe hears Edwards’ voice say behind him. Gabe busies himself tidying his pile of tac gear. “You guys are still here?”

“Was just checking up on Reyes,” McCree says, cool as a cucumber. 

“You pulled off some incredible shots, McCree,” Edwards says. Gabe scoops up the tac gear, holding it closer to his face than he really wants to, and praying that Edwards’ observation skills are as poor as ever. 

“It was a good mission,” Gabe says. He meets McCree’s eyes again. “Get some rest.”

“Yes sir,” McCree says. There’s practically a twinkle in his eyes. It makes something in Gabe’s chest flutter. He swallows down the feeling and hurries off. 

=-=-=

To Gabe’s utter disbelief, his first encounter with McCree in the locker room isn’t their last: the next day, McCree accosts him in a hallway and kisses him, pushing him against the wall and stealing Gabe’s breath away, his lips and tongue leaving Gabe panting for air. McCree pulls away so just the tips of their noses brush. 

“Spar with me?” McCree asks, voice low, his eyes on Gabe’s mouth. 

“What - now?”

“Yeah.”

“...Alright.”

They barely make it out of the locker room. McCree crowds Gabe into a corner until his back hits the cold metal of the lockers, both of his hands holding Gabe’s face as he kisses him deeply, the length of his body pressed up against Gabe’s. Gabe melts into it. He lets his hands rest on McCree’s hips, pulling him in still closer. Just when Gabe thinks he’s going to pass out from lack of oxygen, McCree pulls away, his lips spit-shiny and eyes bright. 

“Let’s spar.”

On the mats, in their training clothes, Gabe doesn’t pull any punches. He gets McCree face down on the mat in record time. McCree squirms under him but Gabe redoubles his grip on McCree’s arm, pinned behind his back. He leans down. 

“Got you,” Gabe says into McCree ear. He feels McCree shudder underneath him, shoving his hips back. 

“Not yet you don’t.”

McCree slips Gabe’s grip and manages to flip them over. Gabe sprawls out on his back, the air leaving his lungs in a surprised  _ oof _ . McCree pins his arms over Gabe head, thighs bracketing his waist, all his weight pressing down on Gabe. 

“Wouldya look at that?” McCree says, tightening his fingers around Gabe’s wrists. Gabe struggles only nominally - he likes the way McCree has him pinned, at his mercy. “Right where I want you.”

They go back and forth like that for nearly an hour, until both of them are breathing hard and have worked up a sweat. Gabe can’t decide what he likes better: the way McCree shoves his hips back against Gabe’s when he’s pinned him to the mat, or the way McCree manages to get the upper hand and pin Gabe down instead. It’s been a long, long time since anyone bested Gabe in the gym. It’s not like he’s  _ letting _ McCree get the better of him, but he does enjoy the way McCree’s bulk surrounds his body. 

It hits Gabe, suddenly, that this is essentially foreplay. 

Back in the locker room, Gabe and McCree pull at each other’s sweaty clothes, trying to get at the skin underneath without breaking their heated kisses. McCree lies back against the bench, tugging Gabe by the front of his shirt until he’s practically on top of him. Gabe can feel the hard line of McCree’s dick through his gym shorts. 

“Fuck me,” McCree says, right up against Gabe’s mouth. Gabe crushes his mouth to McCree’s because  _ yes _ , fuck yes. McCree has lube because of course he does. He wiggles out of his shorts and underwear as Gabe slicks up his cock. Gabe lets him tug him down by the front of his shirt. The blunt tip of his dick slips between McCree’s cheeks as McCree locks his ankles at around the small of Gabe’s back. His head falls back against the bench with a dull thunk as Gabe sinks inside of him. “Fuck - yeah. That’s the ticket.”

McCree kisses Gabe hot and sloppy as he picks up a rhythm, his hands holding the back of his head, his legs not letting him stray too far. Gabe loves the closeness, his nose filled with the heady smell of their sweat and sex. He fucks into McCree hard and fast with all the pent up energy from their tussle on the gym mats. McCree is making a litany of soft grunts and moans into Gabe’s mouth. Gabe swallows them down hungrily. He can feel McCree’s dick trapped between their stomachs, dripping precome and sliding in their sweat. 

“There - right there, oh fuck, you feel so fuckin’ good,” McCree breathes. Gabe keeps it up, fucking into McCree, spurred on by his breathless praises. McCree arches up against Gabe, his fingers digging into the back of Gabe’s neck. Gabe feels him tense up underneath him, his ass clenching hard around Gabe’s dick. “There - Fuck!”

McCree comes between them, coating their stomachs in sticky semen. He makes a pleased, sated sound, the fingers that were digging into the back of Gabe’s neck now gently stroking his damp skin. He kisses the corner of Gabe’s mouth. 

“You feel so good, darling,” McCree murmurs. The endearment makes Gabe shudder. “Keep going.”

“Uh - uh huh,” Gabe pants. McCree kisses him deeply, his tongue lazily sweeping between Gabe’s lips. Gabe’s orgasm is pooling hotly in the pit of his stomach. He grips McCree’s hips harder. 

“That’s right - c’mon, give it to me.”

Gabe squeezes his eyes shut, pressing his forehead against McCree’s when he finally comes, his hips stuttering against his ass. McCree makes another pleased sound, stroking the back of Gabe’s neck, finally releasing his ankles from around Gabe’s waist. Gabe drops his face into the crook of McCree’s neck, reluctant to get up. He wonders, fleetingly, how long this thing is going to last - or if this is just McCree scratching an itch, a passing phase, something temporary. But then McCree turns his head and kisses him again, soft and slow. 

“Should get cleaned up,” he says against Gabe’s mouth. 

They end up in the same shower stall, doing more kissing than cleaning. Gabe ends up on his knees with McCree’s dick down his throat again, water in his eyes and McCree’s hands in his wet hair. After he comes, McCree pulls Gabe back to his feet and laps into his mouth, sharing the taste. 

“We should spar more often,” McCree says as Gabe turns the water off. He shakes some of his wet hair out of his eyes, smiling something mischievous at Gabe. 

“We could both use the practice,” Gabe agrees. McCree’s smile widens. 

“Sounds like a plan to me, boss.”

=-=-=

Gabe still can’t be sure what this is, exactly. McCree continues to be perfectly professional - or, rather, what qualifies as professional for him - during the day, on their missions, whenever they’re working. But then, during off-hours or downtime, McCree almost always seeks Gabe out. They end up kissing in dark corners or empty locker rooms, fucking in the showers or in abandoned lounge rooms. It goes on for weeks, then months; it practically becomes routine. Routine, though never boring. Every encounter with McCree is different, extremely hot, and very satisfying. Gabe can’t remember ever having sex as good as he has with McCree. 

But never, not once, do they end up in an actual bed. 

It’s because of this that Gabe vacillates between elation and crippling self-doubt. He chides himself for thinking that this thing between him and McCree could be anything more than casual fuck buddies. He knows better than that. Even still, Gabe can’t help but get his hopes up when McCree comes to find him in his office late one night. 

“Come in,” Gabe says, without looking up from his tablet. The door to his office slides open and he hears the familiar footfalls of McCree’s boots. 

“I’m not interrupting, am I?” McCree asks. Gabe glances up. McCree is leaning back against the closed door, watching Gabe, as if he’s waiting for permission. Gabe sets down his stylus. 

“Nothing important,” Gabe says. 

McCree takes the cue, crossing the space between the door and Gabe’s desk in a couple long strides. Gabe pushes his chair back from his desk and tilts his head back expectantly. Sure enough, McCree practically climbs into Gabe’s lap, legs straddling Gabe’s. He takes Gabe’s face in both hands and kisses him deeply. Gabe wraps his arms around McCree’s torso and kisses him back, letting his eyes slide closed as he gets lost in the closeness, the warmth. 

McCree’s hands let go of Gabe’s face, moving down between them to get at Gabe’s fly. Gabe catches one hand. McCree stiffens in his lap. He meets Gabe’s eye, a sudden wariness there that makes something in Gabe’s chest clench up. 

“Why don’t -” Gabe starts to say. He stops, swallows hard around the lump in his throat. “Why don’t we go back to my room?”

McCree sits back in Gabe’s lap to get a better look at his face. His brow is furrowed, that wariness still lingering in his eyes. 

“Really?” McCree asks. Gabe shrugs, trying to play it off, trying to ignore the budding sting of rejection. 

“If you want,” Gabe says. He does his best to keep his eyes locked on McCree’s. He can’t get a good read on McCree’s expression. The pause between them stretches on, the dread settling in Gabe’s stomach. 

Finally, finally, McCree slides off of Gabe’s lap. “Alright.”

Gabe blinks, the surprise getting the better of him. “Alright?”

“Yeah,” McCree says, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “Lead the way.”

The halls are quiet at this hour, which means nobody sees Gabe and McCree as they make their way to the officers’ wing. Gabe feels strangely nervous. He’s not sure if this is a good idea, or if McCree will take it as anything other than a change of venue. He keys in the code to his room and stands aside to let McCree in first. 

Gabe’s nerves flare again as the lights come on, illuminating his relatively bare room. He doesn’t spend much time here and he has few personal effects; a couple of framed pictures, some old drawings from Fareeha and his nieces and nephews, a blanket tossed over the foot of his bed. Still, though, Gabe feels acutely exposed in a way that he hasn’t since this whole thing with McCree began. He watches McCree glance around the small living room, crane his head to look through the door to the bedroom, before he turns back to Gabe. 

There’s something like uncertainty in McCree’s eyes and Gabe wonders if he’s made a huge mistake. He rubs the back of his head, looking away. 

“Ah,” he says. “Make yourself at home.”

McCree steps towards Gabe, but stops short. Gabe bites the inside of his cheek. 

“Look - if you don’t want to do this -” Gabe starts to say but McCree cuts him off. 

“I’m here, aren’t I?” McCree says. “I’m just… Taking in the scenery.”

Gabe makes a face. The easy, slightly mischievous smile returns to McCree’s face. He steps in close, getting into Gabe’s space. This, at least, feels familiar. Gabe can almost pretend that they’re anywhere else - the locker room, the gym, the lounge. McCree slips his hands up to cup Gabe’s face. He doesn’t kiss him immediately, though, his gaze strangely intense. Gabe feels like he’s being scrutinized again. Gabe leans in the rest of the way and kisses McCree just to break the gaze. 

It turns into something more familiar from there. McCree holds Gabe close as he kisses him with mounting intensity, one hand sliding down to the small of Gabe’s back. Gabe tilts his head back and kisses McCree deeply. He gets his hand under McCree’s shirt, his palm pressed against McCree’s warm skin as he pushes his shirt further up his stomach. 

“Can I…?” Gabe asks against McCree’s mouth. He feels strange asking for permission like this, after everything they’ve done together, but it seems important, somehow, to redefine their boundaries. 

“Whatever you want, darling,” McCree murmurs. “Wherever you want.”

Gabe lets his breath out. He tugs McCree’s shirt up. McCree raises his arms to let Gabe pull it up over his head, and then he does the same thing for Gabe. Gabe runs his hands down McCree’s bare chest as McCree kisses over Gabe’s jaw. He looks up to meet McCree’s eyes again. 

“Fuck me?” Gabe asks, voice quiet. McCree freezes. 

“You - really?” 

“Yeah,” Gabe says. He runs his fingers along the waistband of McCree’s pants, holding McCree’s gaze steady. 

“Yeah - yeah, okay,” McCree says finally. He kisses Gabe hard, all tongue and teeth, pulling Gabe tight against his body again. Gabe makes a little noise somewhere between a moan and a relieved sigh. He fumbles with McCree’s belt, trying to get it free even as McCree pulls him backwards towards the bedroom. Gabe goes down, kicking off his boots and spreading his legs when his back hits the mattress. McCree stands over him, taking in the sight. He looks, for a moment, unsure. “Really?”

“Yeah, really,” Gabe says. He holds up a hand to him. “Come here.”

McCree joins Gabe on the bed, letting him pull him in to kiss him again. Gabe kisses him more softly this time, slower, deeper, sliding his hand along McCree’s jaw and holding him close. They stay like that for a little while, just kissing, legs tangled together - almost like teenagers making out. This feels different than all the other times they’ve hooked up, but Gabe has to push that thought out of his mind. It’s… nice. He lets his hands wander all over McCree’s body, lifts his hips up when McCree goes for his fly, and helps McCree shuck his pants too. They keep kissing, their bodies wrapping up together, closer than they had even been before - a unique advantage to lying down, instead of being pressed up a wall or bent over a bench. 

Gabe kisses McCree until he feels light-headed and his lips ache. He shifts on his side, pressing the length of his body along McCree’s, grinding their hips together. The hard length of McCree’s cock lines up against Gabe’s - he can feel the heat of it through the fabric of his underwear. Gabe shivers. 

“Want you to fuck me,” Gabe says again, up against McCree’s lips. McCree sucks in a breath. He kisses the corner of Gabe’s mouth. 

“You got lube?” 

Gabe leans away so he can dip his hand into his nightstand drawer. He comes up with a half-full bottle of lube and holds it out to McCree. McCree shimmies out of his underwear and sits back on his heels dropping the bottle of lube between his knees. Gabe slips off his own underwear and lies back on his pillow, looking up at McCree. He can feel his heart thumping in his chest and wonders if McCree can hear it, it’s beating so loudly. He looks up at McCree, who shifts to settle between Gabe’s legs. His cock is hard, curved up towards his stomach, that thick trail of hair fanning up his abs and across his chest. Gabe wants to bury his face in it. Instead, he spreads his legs a little wider as McCree picks up the bottle of lube again. He pops the cap open and coats two of his fingers. He reaches out, almost tentatively, and trails his fingers down the length of Gabe’s cock where it’s resting, hard and eager, on his hip. Gabe makes a little noise. 

“Yeah? You like that?” McCree asks, raising his eyes to look at Gabe’s face. Gabe nods, not trusting himself to speak. McCree moves his fingers lower, over the swell of Gabe’s balls, and back, skating over Gabe’s hole. His toes curl. “You want more?”

Gabe nods again, more frantically, trying not to look desperate and failing miserably. In all the times that he and McCree have fucked, Gabe had never once been on the receiving end. He never thought he’d get the chance - and now here he is. 

McCree rubs his slicked fingers over Gabe’s hole, much gentler than Gabe would’ve thought, given how they’ve fucked before. He’s taking his time, though; rubbing at Gabe’s hole until he’s relaxed and slick, easing one finger in, then two, then an extra drizzle of lube. Gabe’s breath hitches as McCree twists his fingers, sliding in to the last knuckle and curling them up toward his stomach. His cock jumps on his hip, precome already starting to bead on the tip. 

“Oh -” Gabe breathes, shifting to get that feeling again, that spark that zaps up his spine. McCree curls his fingers and rubs inside of him, slowly dragging his fingers in and out, rubbing over that spot that makes his cock twitch. McCree’s expression is intense, his brow furrowed in something like concentration as he watches Gabe’s dick, then his face. 

“Good?”

“Yeah - yeah, it’s good -” Gabe says. He swallows thickly. “More.”

“Yeah,” McCree echoes. “Yeah - okay.”

Slowly, McCree eases his fingers out of Gabe’s ass. He pours more lube into his hand and slicks his own cock. Gabe watches the way McCree works himself, the way his wrist twists on the upstroke, his thumb rubbing over the tip. McCree wipes his hand on his discarded underwear and scoots closer, holding his cock at the base. Gabe bites his lip in anticipation. McCree slides his hands under Gabe’s hips, lifting him up so he can position his cock against Gabe’s hole. Gabe is suddenly reminded of how big McCree actually is - but he desperately wants it. He squeezes his eyes shut, wholly focused on the feeling of McCree’s thick dick pressing between his cheeks. McCree leans over Gabe, one hand steadying his cock while the other holds his body up, fingers digging into the sheets by Gabe’s elbow. 

“Please,” Gabe says. He reaches up and loops his arms loosely around McCree’s shoulders, tilting his face up to look McCree in the eye. McCree ducks down and crushes his mouth to Gabe’s. With a roll of his hips, he sinks his cock into Gabe’s ass. 

Gabe gasps against McCree’s mouth, fingers digging into his shoulders. McCree tries to pull away but Gabe pulls him in instead. He feels so full - split open, McCree’s cock stretching him slowly with the most delicious burn. He clenches around McCree, feeling every inch of him. It feels like ages before McCree bottoms out, his hips pressed against his ass and holding there while Gabe tries to suck in a deep breath. Instead, he breathes in short pants, hitching a little on the inhale. 

“Boss?” McCree asks, voice slightly strained. Gabe blinks open his eyes to look at McCree again. 

“It’s Gabe,” he says. “And don’t you dare stop now.”

Something seems to shift between them. McCree’s brow clears and then he’s kissing Gabe deeply. 

“Yeah - fuck, yeah, Gabe,” McCree says between heated kisses. His hips start moving again, slowly at first, drawing almost completely away from Gabe’s ass until just the tip is stretching him open, then sinking in to the hilt. He picks up the pace, his forehead pressed against Gabe’s, his hips rocking against Gabe’s, which he holds in place with one hand. “Fuck - you’re so tight. Hot. So fucking - fuck, Gabe. You feel so fucking good.”

Gabe inhales sharply, McCree’s words coiling hotly in his belly. He tightens his arms around McCree’s shoulders, hanging on for dear life. He hasn’t been fucked like this in years, but even Gabe knows McCree is  _ good _ ; he’s taking Gabe apart with every roll of his hips, the tip of his cock skating over his prostate. It’s almost too much - Gabe knows he’ll be sore tomorrow - but it’s totally, completely worth it. 

McCree presses his face into the crook of Gabe’s neck, his breath warm and damp, the little moans that punctuate his words going directly into Gabe’s ear. 

“Gabe, Gabe - fuck, Gabe, you’re so good to me,” McCree says, practically babbling it. Gabe could listen to the way McCree says his name like this - a little high, a little needy - for the rest of his life, and never get tired of it. “You’re so fucking good. You like that? You want more? You wanna - fuck - wanna come on my dick? I’ll make you feel so good, darling - oh fuck.”

Gabe whimpers before he can stop himself. His cock is hard and leaking between them, twitching with every thrust. He arches up into McCree, trying to get some friction. 

“Jesse - !” Gabe gasps without meaning to. McCree snaps his hips into Gabe hard, a small cry falling from his mouth. His teeth graze Gabe’s neck. 

“You gonna come, Gabe?”

“Yes, I -”

“Say it - say it again,” McCree says, sucking a mark into the skin where Gabe’s neck meets shoulder. 

“Jesse, I’m gonna come - !”

McCree -  _ Jesse _ \- makes a low, pleased sound in the back of his throat. He lifts himself off of Gabe and reaches between them, taking Gabe’s aching cock in his palm and stroking him in time to his thrusts. Gabe squirms, tossing his head back. It’s too much - he’s overwhelmed - he’s going to lose it - 

Gabe practically shouts when he comes, his dick spurting over McCree’s fist and painting his chest in streaks of white. His ass flutters around McCree’s cock as he fucks him through it, the combination of McCree’s hand and his cock almost too much to bear. He shakes under McCree, his head feeling floaty and hazy. He watches him through heavy-lidded eyes as his orgasm subsides. McCree doesn’t stop fucking into him, his thrusts becoming more and more erratic, jerkily chasing his own orgasm. Gabe reaches up for him again, grabbing McCree’s face with both hands and kissing him hard, sloppy, breathlessly. McCree moans into Gabe’s mouth. 

“Gabe,” he says. He thrusts all the way in and Gabe can feel his dick twitch, pulsing inside of him. McCree nearly collapses on top of him, his arms giving way for a moment before he catches himself. Gabe pulls him all the way down to his sticky chest. They lie like that for several long moments, Gabe’s heartbeat throbbing in his ears as they both try to catch their breaths. McCree tries to get up first. 

“Don’t leave,” Gabe says, voice coming out hoarse. He feels McCree hesitate, then relent, his body heavy against his. 

“Just gonna get a washcloth, alright?”

“Alright.”

McCree gets up and this time Gabe lets him. The cold sweeps over him as soon as McCree pulls away. Gabe shivers. He tries to sit up, but he’s already sore. He hears the water running in the bathroom and then McCree comes back, washcloth in hand. He hands it down to Gabe but hesitates at the edge of the bed. Gabe looks up at him. 

“Stay?” Gabe asks. McCree searches his face. 

“Here?”

“Yeah.”

Gabe sees McCree’s adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallows. 

“You don’t have to,” he says quickly.

“No - no. I want to.”

Gabe wipes himself clean before he scoots over on the narrow bed - even officers don’t get much better than a full mattress - to give McCree room. There’s a bit of hesitation in the way that McCree gets down into the bed with him. Gabe turns his head to look at McCree once he’s lying down. 

“You don’t have to,” Gabe says again. McCree gives him a small, tentative smile. He looks vulnerable in a way that Gabe doesn’t remember seeing him look before. 

“No, I want to,” McCree says again. 

“Alright.”

Gabe reaches over and turns out the light as McCree pulls the blankets up over them. Gabe lies on his back, staring up at the ceiling, wondering if he’s made a huge mistake, and then McCree turns on his side and spoons up against Gabe, tucking his nose into the crook of Gabe’s neck. Gabe lets his breath out, a smile spreading over his face. 

“Good night, Gabe,” McCree says, half-muffled. 

“Good night, Jesse.”

In the morning, Gabe wakes up with his nose buried in McCree’s hair. He breathes in a familiar scent - his own shampoo. Gabe wonders, fleetingly, whether this is all some sort of elaborate dream. McCree shifts underneath him. 

“Mornin’,” McCree mumbles, his voice rumbling through his chest. He turns his head and presses a kiss to the corner of Gabe’s mouth. The color rises to Gabe’s cheeks in surprise and delight. He presses his face back into McCree’s hair. 

“Morning,” Gabe says, muffled. McCree shifts and pulls Gabe in to kiss him again. Gabe melts into it. He must still be dreaming. 

“I could get used to this,” McCree says. Gabe nods. 

“Me too.”

“Yeah?” McCree says, leaning away to get a good look at Gabe’s face. Gabe meets his eyes, his heart beating hard in his throat. 

“Yeah,” Gabe says. He pauses. “I want to keep doing this with you, Jesse. Whatever - whatever this is.”

The corner of McCree’s mouth quirks up. “Sleeping together?”

“Not just that,” Gabe says, making a face. McCree scoots in closer, wrapping his arms around Gabe. 

“I wanna hear you say it,” he says.

“Just - being together,” Gabe says. His face feels hot, his stomach twisting in knots. He manages to meet McCree’s eye. 

“Yeah,” McCree says, his voice going soft. “I want that too, Gabe.”

Something flutters in Gabe’s chest at hearing his name like this - low and sweet, earnest, rather than in the heat of the moment. Gabe swallows thickly. 

“Really?”

“I thought it was obvious.”

Gabe shakes his head a little, disbelieving. He tips his head back and kisses McCree - _ Jesse _ , he mentally corrects himself. It doesn’t feel real - like maybe Jesse will change his mind, or decide this whole thing with Gabe isn’t for him. But Jesse kisses him back and maybe Gabe can believe it after all. 


End file.
